


2am

by sky_kaijou



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Masturbation, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violetshipping, Violetshipping Week 2018, puppyshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 02:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_kaijou/pseuds/sky_kaijou
Summary: When your work and life balance is tipped so heavily it starts to mess with your brain.





	2am

Two in the morning was a dangerous time.

The streets were deathly quiet, save an intermittent bark from a dog or a siren in the distance that would fade as it reached the city centre. Hidden in pockets of the city were gangs that prowled for victims, or tagged buildings with illegible scrawl and vibrant art.

But for others, two in the morning was a much different kind of dangerous.

Hidden away in the valley where only those who held platinum credit cards and owned businesses in skyscrapers that towered over the city was Seto Kaiba, walking on a tightrope balancing work and school, leaving no time for luxury.

On nights where he was lucky, he’d turn his lights out at twelve and be up at six to prepare breakfast and get his brother to school. Nights where he got more than three hours sleep left him functioning well and thinking clearly. Sometimes, if exams were coming or deadlines were close, he’d pull a few all-nighters while fuelled on caffeine pills and then crash for a day of recovery when his schedule allowed.

He knew he was killing himself, but he was at the mercy of his business, and he could keep reminding himself it was only for a few more years until he could be autonomous and until people took him more seriously within his right as a CEO instead of some child that had been “lucky” enough to play his pawns right.

Initially unwelcome, on the third night in a row, Seto knew he’d start seeing things. Images soldered deep into his mind, lines etched painfully behind his eyelids. Hallucinations of a man standing in the corner of his room so vivid, he could smell that raspberry lip balm and the citrus body spray. In a sick way, he almost enjoyed these hallucinations that felt so secret and private because they made him feel less like a machine and more like a normal teenager who could be broken, little by little.

Originally, they started as colours or echoes, which Seto could shake off seemingly okay, but these increasingly vivid ones started a year ago, after a stint before finals, where he was beyond stressed down the halls of Domino High. On a Wednesday afternoon just before fifth period, that blond idiot had distractedly strolled right into him as he was shouting down the hall at his friends. Paperwork flew across the hall and Kaiba had taken only a moment to recoil before laying into the insolent brat.

Heated words turned into punches, and while the norm for this pair, for the first time each touch had twisted Kaiba’s stomach in a different direction and nausea washed over his body. He’d pushed the blonde away, who was breathing heavily, with sweat sticking his hair to his temples, and a bruised smirk inviting him to take another swing.

And on that night, around two in the morning, Seto had seen that form standing over his desk, leaning in with the same smirk. There was a stir in the deepest recesses of his stomach, and he recoiled at the mere thought that his body might have _liked_ it?

The second happened just after Summer Break, through the launch of an incredible project that Seto had trusted absolutely nobody to handle. Meetings were running at all hours of the day, so while it was past one in the morning in Japan, business was still open in his American branch. Technical and business issues had come through thick and fast, and between a new semester at school and time zone differences, left him not a minute to rest until weekend. He’d already missed half of his classes for the first week but knew he couldn’t afford to get too behind in attendance, save being pulled into the Principal’s office and lectured about his minimum requirements as laid by the law to keep guardianship, so his only other solution was bitter coffee, caffeine pills, and resilience.

Earlier in the day, during an outside Physical Education class, they’d been swimming in the pool. Seto, usually the fastest swimmer in the class, had the wind knocked out of him due to his lack of rest, and heaven forbid Jounouchi be the one to beat him in a timed lap. As Seto pulled himself out of the crystal water, Jou pushed himself up, droplets of water pouring off his chest. It was only a three second stare, but Seto’s mind had etched every tan line and muscle. Gaze broken before his rival could notice, Seto grabbed for his towel, and Jou had offered his hand in what Kaiba had interpreted as a mocking truce of a handshake. With a glare, Kaiba also grabbed the outstretched palm and shook it firmly, establishing dominance, noting that this required payback when he was in better shape.

But goddamn at two in the morning, when fate would crumble around him, it wasn’t him being the dominator. The form sat back on his desk, shirtless, biting his lip and Seto hadn’t responded emotionally until the tingle in his stomach was back and he couldn’t control the twitch between his legs.

The third hallucination wasn’t triggered by anything, but after a long week coupled with maybe ten hours sleep over five days, and a drink of sake in his office he swore he could feel a brush of lips on his neck followed by a twist of sounds that sounded like ‘fuck me.’

He just began to accept that it wasn’t going away.

And over the many weeks in which this preposterous rhythm became ingrained into his life, he began to embrace his ethereal visits, which became more frequent the deeper he delved into decimating his work-life balance, and on days where he felt particularly sadistic, he’d drink some Sake while he worked and waited for it to come and go.

Tonight, Seto took his Sake cold, ready to accept that he was so fucking tired he could hardly function. In preparation, he saved his progress and shut his programs down on his computer, leaving just the desktop open. He knew that within minutes, the alcohol would numb his brain of the constant dismissal and let him begin to accept whatever phenomena this was. His fingertips tingled and his eyes lidded a little and the breeze of the open office window brushed his cheek. Seto knew he was sick as he felt the weight of the night push upon the tops of his hands as to guide him off his computer but he also didn’t care. And as he opened his eyes the body of his rival sat in front of him, incomprehensibly lifelike, hands resting on his own, stare searching for life within his core which ignited as he saw bright flecks of gold and red so vivid he could almost count the eyelashes attached pass before his eyes as he closed them again.

Seto let out a sigh as he unbuttoned his black leather-look jeans, freeing the pressing erection which was already readier than his brain had signalled. He leaned back in his chair, unzipping and getting more comfortable as he readjusted his boxer shorts and took his penis softly in his right hand, testicles in one hand.

In his mind played a show; from their accidental touches, to Seto’s inability to look away in the changing rooms. Those tan lines and abdominal muscles as clear as the day Seto had first taken them in. The words Jounouchi had said in taunt that sounded a lot more erotic while the wind blew past his face as if it encouraged him to continue.

Without conscious thought, his hand tugged firmer and quicker, Seto’s breathing becoming laboured. Shocks of pleasure ripped through his body from behind his cock and travelled back to his fingertips, where he gripped tighter with failed effort to control himself.

He opened his eyes and his room was full of Jou’s voice, images of his slim but muscly ass as he’d bent over to pull his swimming trunks on one afternoon. Seto’s cock jolted at the fantasy of pinning him to the wall and grinding firm against him and hearing a breathy moan of encouragement.

Seto choked back a moan as another earthquake ripped through his body, veins thick on his cock and head beaded with droplets shining white, which ran down his foreskin and puddled around his forefinger and thumb. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the pit of white heat swirling dangerously in his stomach, feeling the spasms go from seconds apart to instantaneous.

He rocked into his hand, lifting off the chair as he shot ribbons into his hand while choking down a moan, barely allowing himself to breathe out his name.

Katsuya.

In the moments that followed his brain went blank until his breathing returned to normal and his clasp subsided. Head rested on his desk, hair in a mess beaded with sweat and regret. The breeze knocked him back into the moment, his inebriation subsided and all he could think was how pathetic he must look sitting in a leather chair with his hands covered in come.

As he tidied himself up, he fought the same battle he did every visit Jounouchi had. Was this going to be the last time? Should it be?

He sighed as he took off his stained shirt and threw it to the corner. That’s another day’s problem to resolve. Maybe in the future when he didn’t have to attend school and submit assignments between arguing with men in their fifties who thought they knew better than him about how to run a business. But for now, this sickness would sit in his brain, waiting for his inhibitions to fail, and they’d remind him just how pitiful he was to be attracted to the third-rate troublemaker that could never be in his leagues.


End file.
